Tatterdemalion Dreams

It was always summertime then

And softness flowed soft jeans.

Time moved colorful flags,

They were going back to the garden

In their Chevrolets.

Everyone had the summertime blues

Except for the day-tripping dreamers.

Time swept down summer rain;

They all found something fun to do

In the upstate mud.

Summer came to an end too soon

Though fires burned in desert twilight.

The king of jokers danced in the wind;

Knives flashed, innocence died

In the Santa Ana winds.

Now hair grays, stringy in wintertime,

Tie-dye is a market for pot-bellies.

The easy neighborhood dreams of fast bucks,

The walrus grumbles in endless loop-back,

Summertime’s a cheap decal.

So there’s your dream, Americans,

In tattered rags, once flags of youth.

The promise of endless cool and earth

Swallowed in the corporate vibe;

Aquarius, a nova-star.

My Suicide

My suicide

Will be a razor

Will be a gas

Will be noose-tight

Will be a whole bottle of pills

Will reek of bitter almonds

Will slice through arteries

Will bleed on the carpet

And leave dark smears in the bath.

My suicide

Will be a mess

Will burn like a monk

Will swell with lake-water

Will smoke in the garage

Will be a shot to the skull

Will declare me void and null.

My suicide

Will burn like acid

Will freeze me in ice

Leave nothing except

My dead eyes at night.

I’ll leave you all

A simple note

That will bite the heart

That bred it right

Words will be my symphony

All that’s left

Of absurd me.

My suicide will be talked about

My suicide will be

The one great act

That defines me.

My suicide, on the evening news

Will be the story

That fits the bill.

I’ll be world famous

I know I will.

Windows and Waves

There is a window

Behind the moon

Where winds move

and trumpet flowers play

just beyond the frame.

Stars, you know

Dream of glass

And glass dreams

Of when it was sand

And sands dream always in the sun.

We know obsidian lizards drink

From dark fire rivers

And do not dream of anything,

but the waves move, just the same

Behind the moon so clear.

All the water that ever was

Once carried the glass

And what did it dream?

Perhaps it dreamed of us

Perhaps it dreamed of God.

Stars spring out

And spin in spirals,

Or so it is said

When the moon is full and blue

When the window is open.

The curve of the universe

The cat said, is a blink of an eye

An eye full of sun

With playful lashes

And a smile in its depth

So go ahead and drink         

From a glass, from a dream of sand

The water of life, so bright and clean

Skate the tempests of ether,

Like a small boat cutting through time...

...Through the million nights

Through the blink of days.

Don’t fly until you’re ready

To jump through the windows

Above the curling wave of sea.

Kissing You All Over Like the Sun

Kissing you all over like the sun

My love will softly nourish you.

Indolence becomes you today.

My arms are the best place for you to rest.

My rough hands a becoming frame for your face.

Stay with me

And I will crown you a sleepy prince.

Love with me and I swear it,

no matter how torrid the tempest becomes

you will rise from our bed

radiant and clean

and all over kissed

by the sun.

Untitled Poem For a Collection of Dusty Books

What is lonelier

than knowing you’re

the only one who cares?

Mr Thurber’s dead

Jackie Benny forgotten

And Charles Dickens?

Just someone read in school.

The attitude summed

up best by a writer friend

who said, did your Dante make

the New York Times

Bestseller list?

What is lonelier

and more pathetic

than a man with gifts no one wants?

What is sadder than wisdom and wonder

lying dusty in a dark room

that no one will ever enter?

I’ll tell you,

in case you haven’t guessed:

It’s the man who lives in that room

Alone.

The Sounds Of Bells

I was foolish enough

To expect a jingle in your eye

When I walked into the room

Instead I got the old

Bottle cry.

Let’s you agree to share my wallet

Garnished with a helping of lies

After all, that’s what makes

The world go ‘round, isn’t it?

Your world.

If my world had not been so long a desert

If I had not strayed so far

I might never have heard your false bells pealing.

Nor seen sweet water in the sands.

Now, go with my blessings

And not a curse

Because even you have taught me well

About loneliness, wavering lakes

And the sounds of windy bells…